
Around the world on doctor’s orders
Heinrich Schiffmann (1872-1904) was an avid traveller who voyaged around the world twice. Believe it or not, these lengthy voyages were supposedly prescribed by his doctors. The Swiss globe-trotter’s visits to far-flung places reflect a fascination of the era, bordering on mania, for round-the-world trips.
Unlike many other globe-trotters, Schiffmann did not keep a notebook or travel journal. But the few letters he wrote that do survive provide an insight into the financial means required for his voyages. Regular requests for sizeable sums of money from his inheritance were addressed in the main to his stepfather Ferdinand Roth, a director of the family business. A letter penned in September 1901, shortly before Schiffmann was due to depart on his second circumnavigation of the globe made the situation clear: “My health is improving, but unfortunately Drs Campart and Kraft are telling me to go on a five-month voyage by sea. [...]. It will be a very costly trip, especially as I have to look after myself this time. I would estimate about CHF 15,000. By when can I have this sum? I need to request my letter of credit some time in advance.”
Alongside money, the medical reasons for Schiffmann’s globe-trotting are another topic that invariably crops up in his correspondence. He suffered from tuberculosis, and his condition is well documented. However, the potential healing effect of long, exhausting ship-board journeys through tropical seas remains questionable. Was it above all a way to justify the young man of leisure’s expensive lifestyle of non-stop adventure?
Rather than a notebook, Heinrich Schiffmann preferred to take photographic equipment with him. As an enthusiastic amateur, he was not content with a lightweight, easy-to-use model like the first Kodak roll-film hand cameras, which were already widely available. Instead, he lugged expensive, cumbersome equipment, including light-sensitive glass plates, with him on board. The photos taken on his two round-the-world voyages appear highly spontaneous: street scenes in Hong Kong, Saigon and Shanghai, and portraits of Chinese peasant families, a market in Mexico, houses and plantations in Ceylon.
This young Swiss man captured the world as it unfolded before his eyes in all its diversity and richness. Other pictures show British barracks in Hong Kong, German navy manoeuvres in China and, above all, American, Russian and French warships in Asian ports and in the Pacific, thus illustrating one of the factors that made worldwide travel possible: the Western empires’ far-reaching sphere of influence.
Heinrich Schiffmann’s two round-the-world trips also gave him the opportunity to acquire a great many objects. Travellers were generally keen to bring home objects considered authentic, but which they sometimes picked up in souvenir shops catering specifically to tourists. This was the case especially in Japan, a popular stop on the globe-trotters’ itinerary. On his second trip around the world, Heinrich Schiffmann chose to purchase items from Arthur & Bond, a curio shop in Yokohama that was anything other than a small business run by locals. The invoice from the English company even included shipping to Switzerland and insurance, obviating the need for travellers like Schiffmann to encumber themselves with the pieces they had acquired, such as inlaid wooden screens, embroidered curtains, ivory figurines and bronze and silver vases, as they continued on their way.


The voyages made by the young Swiss globe-trotter were part of a wider momentum that gathered at the turn of the century. The establishment and improvement of transport routes made it possible for people from the West to travel the world unhindered, especially along the imperial networks. Whether in reality or in virtual form, globe-trotting mania spread like a virus. Heinrich Schiffmann was one of those who caught the travel bug, even though he was travelling on health grounds.





